Wednesday Morning, 3am
by Numbatstuff
Summary: Some nights are just never going to be condusive to sleep. This is Jacob's story and follows on from His Three Favourite Words.
1. Please

Story Soundtrack: Wednesday Morning, 3am – Simon & Garfunkel

"I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love

As she lies here beside me asleep with the night

And her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow

Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight"

Following on from my earlier pieces, Jacob and Rachel have been in a relationship for a couple of months now. Still keeping it quiet. Still abiding by her "no sex on assignment rule". Still visiting the beach house when they can.

I have split this story into three chapters as each scene is quite distinct from the others. Unlike my previous stories though, this one is written from Jacob's point of view.

Whilst the above song is the overarching soundtrack for the story, the individual chapters do not have a musical soundtrack. Instead I am drawing from a radio play entitled "Nick Silver Can't Sleep" which was performed by Rufus Sewell (and others) several years ago. Apologies to those who haven't heard it as it's no longer available in its entirety for download. In any case, please imagine the words as spoken by Rufus in his intense, throaty whisper. It is a play about plants and insomniacs.

"It keeps getting dark, over and over

A dew of sadness blankets everything

The air's thin and warm and I have trouble breathing

I feel lost and anxious and trapped"

* * *

"So tell me Jacob, are you sleeping with Rachel Young?"

The question hit him like a bolt out of the blue, cracking into his sternum with such force that it made him draw breath.

_/Shit/ _

Jacob looked at Frank, his old friend, FBI Director, his boss, and his heart hammered against his rib cage. He could feel this was going to end badly.

"Why would you ask me that Frank?"

"Because I know you Jacob, I know you well. I can see it in your eyes."

_/Shit/ _

"You can see what?"

"I can see that you're happy. And I've not seen you this happy since you fell in love with Maggie. I've watched a lot of crap happen to you over the years Jacob. I've seen you broken and destroyed. And right now I'm seeing you happy for the first time in a long, long time."

He paused.

"I saw how you _were_ together at the science centre benefit. I saw how she looked at you."

_/Shit/ _

The two men sat silently for a few moments, staring at each other through the haze of cigar smoke. Jacob reached over to the coffee table that sat between their two leather armchairs and topped up their whiskey glasses from the almost empty bottle of 10 year old malt. They'd already been in the club for a good couple of hours. He handed Frank's glass to him.

"I think you might need this"

"Jacob, talk to me. Are you sleeping with Rachel Young?"

_/Sleeping with her, sleeping with her, sleeping with her. That sounds so trashy. Of course I'm sleeping with her Frank, of course I am, I love her /_

He sighed. "Frank, it's complicated. I'm not sleeping with her. I mean I'm not just _sleeping_ with her".

"Are you sharing her bed?"

_/Not often enough/ _

"Only when we aren't working."

The other man's eyebrows raised sharply.

"I think we're arguing semantics don't you Jacob. You know you can't have a personal relationship with your partner under FBI protocol, don't you?"

_/Fuck the FBI/ _

"Well she's not exactly my partner is she? I mean I'm not strictly an FBI agent so she can't be my partner".

"Partner, Handler, there's no difference Jacob. Neither of those titles can be accompanied by 'and lover'."

_/I should have been more prepared for this. I should have gone to him with it. Attack is the best form of defence/_

Jacob was silent. He looked down at his hand holding the fat cigar.

_/At least I'm not seeing her later. She'd hate the smell of this/ _

"Are you in love with her Jacob?"

He was silent.

_/Of course I'm in love with her. With my heart and soul/_

"Is she in love with you?"

_/Well, she's keeping it quiet if she is/ _

"If I told you that you would have to give up her or give up your job, which would you choose?"

_/I'd give up everything I have, everything I own, I'd give up my life for her/ _

Finally he spoke, quietly. "I think you already know the answer to that, Frank"

"That's what I was afraid of." He paused. "Look Jake, I'll give you some time. I'm sorry but that's all I can do. I'll give you some time to talk it through and sort out what you both want to do. I don't want to lose either of you. She's a good agent, one of our best. Which is why I assigned her to you in the first place. She's due for a promotion soon though, I could give her a posting in Counter Terrorism – I know that's where she wants to go. But you'll need to have a new Handler".

_/Never/ _

"I can give you a couple of months tops, but then I'll need to know."

_/I'll never accept a new Handler/ _

Jacob nodded.

_/Never/ _

The smaller man reached over and placed his hand on Jacob's arm. "This isn't the end of the world Jake, don't let it get to you. You must have known it would come to this. If you just let her transfer to CT and you accept a new Handler – _without_ pissing them off at every available opportunity - the relationship doesn't have to end. And I'll be your best man again".

_/Best man again. At my wedding. When I marry her. We've never even spoken about it, there's a lot we've never spoken about, I don't even know if she loves me/ _

"You need to understand though Jacob, that if this leaks out in the meantime, that it has to be on your head. I can't back you up. We never had this conversation."

Jacob sighed and rubbed his forehead slowly with his hand.

"Absolutely. I do understand Frank. Thankyou, thanks for giving us some time. I do appreciate it, really I do. It's just……… it's just hard. I don't really know how things stand just yet. She can be quite reserved sometimes. I think she's worried about the future as well. We both are."

"Just give her some time. Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like you do Jake. She's FBI, she's been trained to be cautious. But I've seen how she looks at you. I wouldn't worry. She adores you."

_/How does she look at me Frank? She adores me, but does she love me?/ _

"Anyhow, let's not dwell on it anymore," Frank said with a wry smile. He topped up their glasses once again, draining the bottle of whiskey and motioned to the waiter. 'I think it's time for vodka."

Jacob winced slightly, "Jesus, I'd forgotten about Sergei."

Frank laughed. "How could you forget our old friend Sergei? We've only been drinking to his health for the last 20 years. Have you heard from him lately?"

"Yeah, got an email from him a couple of weeks ago asking for some advice on brain chemistry analysis. Apparently he's working on a project for the Russian government, wouldn't tell me what. He said it makes a welcome change from being a tenured professor. A little bit of glamour and excitement he said. Didn't have the heart to tell him that none of this is glamorous or exciting."

_/More like dangerous and deadly, too dangerous for her/ _

By the time they'd finished the last of the whiskey, the ice cold bottle of vodka had arrived accompanied by two shot glasses, a bowl of black caviar, crackers, a bowl of very finely diced hard boiled egg yolk and another of the finely diced white.

"Well, we've got him to thank for this. It still makes me laugh to this day that you can't eat a simple piece of fish yet you can down a bowl of caviar."

Jacob laughed "It's the vodka, Frank. It doesn't matter what you eat, if it's accompanied by half a bottle of vodka."

_/It doesn't matter what you have to think about if it's accompanied by half a bottle of vodka/ _

And the two men settled down in the easy companionship borne of many years of friendship, to finish their night.

Jacob was only half present though.

_/Shit/_


	2. Tell

Full moon, new moon, planets aligned,

I cannot sleep.

And if I cannot sleep, I cannot sleep.

And if I cannot sleep, I cannot dream.

And if I cannot dream, I cannot dream of you………….

* * *

It was 2am when Jacob's taxi dropped him off at his front door. After fumbling with the keys a little, he let himself into the house. He didn't turn on any lights, just walked a little unsteadily into the living room and sat in the darkness looking out of the front window into the street.

_/Shit/ _

He rubbed his face with his hand.

_/I shouldn't have had so much to drink. I need to think. I need to think and I need to sleep/ _

He got to his feet slowly and levered off his shoes, leaving the laces tied, and took off his jacket. He threw it over the back of the couch and walked into the kitchen in his socks. He flicked on the light, undid his tie and tossed it onto the kitchen bench. It slid quickly off like a long silky snake, into a pile on the floor.

_/Coffee and water/_

He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cold water, snapped the lid and downed the contents in one go. The icy cold liquid flowing into his belly made him feel a little better and he opened the fridge once more, grabbing a second.

_/Just water, no coffee, I won't be able to sleep if I have coffee now/ _

Taking the bottle of water with him, he made his way slowly up the stairs and into the bathroom. He stared at his broad face in the mirror.

_/You look like complete crap/ _

The familiar lines, the small veins in the skin under his eyes, the crease by his mouth, the scar in his eyebrow, shaving rash on his neck. What did she see in him anyway. He looked tired – and old.

_/Complete crap/ _

He took a big leak, one hand against the wall for support and then downed the second bottle of water.

He brushed his teeth to try and remove the taste of too many cigars, too much whiskey, too much vodka. It helped a little but not much.

Then he stripped off and stood under the hot shower for a while. It helped a little but not much.

_/Shit/ _

He had a thumping headache.

He really wanted to swim, to clear his head, and he thought of the beach house, thought of making love to Rachel in the ocean.

But at least the shower had made him feel clean.

_/I need to think/ _

Taking a few steps up the hallway into the bedroom, he lay on the bed, towel wrapped around his waist, hands clasped behind his head. He didn't bother switching on the light.

_/I need to think. I need to sleep/ _

But he could do neither.

His mind was digesting the conversation that he'd had with Frank. But he knew that turning it over and over, repeating the words that had been said, was not helping. He needed to think properly. To decide what to do, decide what to tell Rachel.

_/Should I tell her why or should I tell Frank just to transfer her? If she doesn't know the reason it might make it easier for her. But I don't want a new Handler. I don't want to have to spend all that time with someone that isn't her. And will she be safe in Counter Terrorism? I can't look after her if she isn't with me. If she isn't with me/ _

He rolled onto his stomach, face turned towards the window. He sighed.

_/If she isn't with me/ _

He hated the very thought of it.

_/If she isn't with me/_

When it became evident that sleep was unlikely to come anytime soon, he got up, pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt, and wandered downstairs. He might as well make that coffee after all. He sat up on the kitchen bench while he waited for the water to boil and his eyes fixed on the door to the basement. He didn't often go down there, the place where so many of his memories were stored, but he suddenly felt an urge to go and revisit some of those memories.

He opened the door, turned on the light and made his way down the stairs. It was no different from anyone else's basement, water heater, some old pieces of furniture, boxes. In the corner was a pile of canvases stacked on their side, covered by a white sheet.

He drew off the sheet and flicked through the frames. They were Maggie's art. Landscapes, seascapes, a few modern pieces, a portrait of him and Tanner. He paused at each one, remembering her painting them, where they had been at the time, how they had felt.

Then he reached the last one. The last painting was wrapped in brown paper and secured with thick string. He sliced open the string with a penknife that he had brought with him down from the kitchen, and let it fall. He put the knife in his back pocket, unwrapped the paper and set the painting down at the front of all the others.

He leant back against one of the basement pillars, then slowly slid down it until he was sitting, knees bent in front of him, forearms resting on them, hands hanging.

He stared at it. He hadn't looked at this painting since he wrapped it up after Maggie had died. It was the last painting that she ever did. He had hated this piece with a passion when she had painted it, hated it beyond all logical comprehension.

_/I still hate this painting/ _

It was a simple composition, just three vertical bands of colour. One black, one white and the last black. But it was more than that. A thick, black, vertical stripe running the full height of the canvas on the left. Towards the middle, the edges of the black stripe became fuzzy as the black turned into a big white vertical stripe which dominated the centre of the piece. There were little flashes of light in the white, sparks, specks of colour, of gold, of silver. The edges of the white then became fuzzy and the right hand side again became black.

_/I hate this painting/ _

He had asked her what it meant when it was finished, as she lay in her sick bed close to the end, and she had told him that it was her vision of life and death. The first strip of black was the nothingness before you are born, then after birth you experience your life as a burst of light, full of colour and movement and sparks. Before you move once more into the blackness of death. The blackness, the nothingness. 'As it once was, so will it be again' she told him before she died.

_/I hate this painting/ _

He reached up and clasped his hands behind his head, pulling it down til his forehead rested on one of his knees, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he wept.

He wept for the beautiful wife he had lost and he wept for the beautiful woman he now loved. He was confused, conflicted, torn. Was he betraying Maggie by loving Rachel? Was there really a future for them? Once they were split apart professionally, would she move on, find someone else? Would she be angry with him for jeopardising her career, for enabling Frank to find out? Did she really love him? He thought she must love him by her passion and the look in her eyes. But did she _really_ love him? Did she love him desperately, with all her heart, as he loved her? Why couldn't she tell him how she felt? Why couldn't she say she loved him if she actually did?

_/What if she died?/ _

As the flow of his tears stemmed, he thought of Maggie, of his beautiful Maggie. They had been introduced by Anna Yang at her home and had then bumped into each other the next day in a coffee shop at Stanford. He had been completing a research project there. She had forgotten her wallet and he had paid for her coffee, so she came and sat with him.

She was an art lecturer. Funny, bright, full of laughter, a free spirit, larger than life, flowing red hair, freckles, vibrant blue eyes, voluptuous, tall. They had virtually been inseparable from that day and within 6 months they were married. Their life together was happy, carefree; they travelled, bought a beautiful house on the beach, filled it full of friends, pets, art, life. They had issues in their marriage as all people did, but the foundation was strong, their love deep, and there was no storm that they didn't weather. Everyone knew that children would be soon, that they would be wonderful parents, she the earth mother, he the protector.

But when the tornado came there was nothing in his power he could do to protect her.

She fought it as best she could. With cheerful determination, meditation, organic food, natural medicine.

He fought it as best he could. With the latest in cutting edge science, medical breakthroughs, he talked to every contact he had made, there was no piece of research he didn't read, there was no experimental therapy, no surgery they didn't try.

But in the end there was nothing he could do to protect her. And although she went to her death graciously and without fear, at the very end he blamed himself. The brain cancer took her but he blamed himself for letting it, for not being able to protect her as he thought he should have.

_/What if she died?/_

He had already almost lost Rachel twice. Many more times than that if he counted the explosions, gun battles, disease, gassings, car chases, she had survived as his Handler. He feared for her every time they took on a new assignment, but at least he was with her. How could he let her go to work with someone else? How could he keep her safe if he wasn't with her?

_/What if she died?/ _

He didn't see Rachel as a replacement for Maggie. They were so different. Rachel was small, fierce, intense, tough. Rachel and Maggie were different physically; they were different mentally. But Rachel was the only other woman he had ever had such intense feelings for.

He loved her desperately, perhaps even more desperately than he had loved Maggie. His love for Maggie had been easy and natural. He wondered whether his intense, passionate love for Rachel was the reason that she felt it hard to open up to him. Did he frighten her with his need for her. She certainly had no problem opening up to him sexually, telling him what she wanted, taking from him what she needed.

But she didn't talk to him like Maggie always had done. They could talk for hours about their future, their desires, their dreams. Rachel only wanted to talk about _things_, about work, about sex. Did she even love him at all? Was he seeing something in her eyes that didn't really exist?

_/I need to see her/ _

He took his penknife from his back pocket and flicked open the blade_._

_/I need to see her/ _

He cut the painting from its frame and began slicing it into ribbons. Destroying what he hated. Destroying the memory. Trying to destroy the pain.

_/I need to see her/ _

But when he had finished and the painting lay around him like confetti, the pain still remained.


	3. Me

"I want to blow a smoke ring around your long skinny neck.

I want to knock you out with my scent

Cut loose to the woods where no one can find us

You could clamour around me,

Take hold and strangle me,

Tackle me down to the ground,

I'd never fight it, I wouldn't know how

I want to lose myself to you, I want to be yours

Please, just one night,

Like my own private planet

Orbit round me tonight……………"

* * *

It was 3am when Jacob let himself quietly into her apartment. After he had given her keys to both of his houses and his Corvette, she had given him a single key to her apartment. But no key to the SUV. She said she still didn't trust him to drive in the city. He had been annoyed with her about that.

Her apartment was in darkness and he found her sound asleep in her bed. He gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek and she touched his face and murmured his name before drifting off again.

He sat in the armchair across from the bed and watched her sleep in the gentle moonlight. He had expected to come here and sit, and look at her, while his mind grappled with the problem of what to do. Expected that the sight of her would somehow give him an answer to his problems. But the sight of her caused his mind to whirl even faster.

_/Rachel/ _

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't plan, couldn't think. He realised he was incoherently tired. Realised that all he wanted to do was to hold her warm body next to his and sleep. Perhaps while he slept an answer would come to him.

He took his clothes off silently and slipped between the sheets next to her. He put his arms around her and she whispered his name and snuggled down into his arms. He lay there waiting for sleep to take him, but his mind began to race again. He needed to shut it off, needed to rest.

_/Please/ _

As if she knew, Rachel turned her head towards him and found his lips. She kissed him slowly, sleepily, as though he was just a dream.

Her hand reached up to his face and she ran her fingers through his hair then down the back of his neck. Her touch sent shivers up his spine and down to his groin. He gently ran his hands over her, and he realised she was naked. She murmured her pleasure at his touch, and he found himself deeply aroused by her naked body and her reaction to his presence. He began to kiss her neck, the hollow at the base of her throat, her beautiful face, slowly, languidly. She was usually intense and demanding, but in this never-land between sleep and wake, she accepted his loving attention without protest.

_/Tell/ _

He gently pulled his arm out from under her and moved his body on top of hers. Without putting his full weight on her, he explored her body in a way that she would never have been able to accept if she had been fully awake.

He paid attention to every square inch of her naked skin, the sensitive underside of her breasts, her erect nipples, her musky armpits, the line of her ribs, her flat belly. He gently kissed her, licked her, nibbled her, lapped at her and when he reached the hot spot between her warm thighs and gently sucked her slowly, slowly, slowly to a shivering orgasm, he wished that she would let him make love to her like this when she was awake.

_/Me/ _

As he moved back up her body, she took his head in her hands and kissed his mouth deeply. He sensed that he may have woken her a little and hoped that she wouldn't want to take charge and move things along at her usual pace.

"Slowly Rachel," he murmured.

He gasped at the feel of her small hot hands feathering down his body, and when she took his erection in her hand and ran her fingers along the length of him, he groaned. He was desperately, desperately aroused, thick and heavy and dripping with his desire for her.

"Love me Jacob," she whispered in his ear, her eyes still closed, her hands still gentle on him. "Love me."

_/Rachel, please tell me/ _

He moved slowly against her, kissing her closed eyelids, her face, her mouth. She moved her body in response, gently touching his and opened her thighs to him. She was still warm and wet and swollen, and as he sank into her as slowly as he possibly could, inch by delicious inch, she whispered his name. He wanted to last, wanted _this_ to last as long as it could and his movements were quiet and spare. As she moved with him however, her hips taking him into her, he began to build his thrusts, taking her with long slow deep strokes. He felt himself peaking, nearing the end and stopped, taking a few moments to steady himself.

He breathed in slowly, deeply, he didn't want this exquisite moment to end, didn't want to stop loving her. He slid down to the very bottom of the bed and started kissing her small foot. He ran his tongue up her ankle and she writhed a little at the sensation. He nibbled his way up her leg and when he reached her knee he lapped his tongue around the back into the erotically sensitive crevice.

After a few minutes however he could resist it no longer. He wanted to keep making love to her but he desperately needed to come, and thrust back into her, deeper this time, harder and deeper. Her fingers, usually digging desperately into his back, were feathering his skin and when he finally came to an end in a long, slow, shuddering, climax that touched every inch of his body, every inch of his soul, she held him to her as though she would never let him go.

_/I love you/ _

And after a few minutes, when their hearts had stopped pounding and their breathing had slowed, she lifted his head with her hands and looked into his face. He saw the tears on her cheeks; saw the love in her blue eyes.

"I will never leave you Jacob. I will never, ever leave you. It doesn't matter what happens to us, doesn't matter if we are transferred or if we have to leave the FBI and move to the other side of the world. I will never, ever leave. _You_ are my world now. I love you and I will be with you for all time."

He kissed the tears from her face and lay his head on her breast.

_/I love you/ _

And finally at 4am, as the night began fade and birds began to twitter the first sounds of their dawn chorus, Jacob Hood felt the worries of the night flow out of him, felt peace enter him, felt at one with the world.

And for the first time in years, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. A deep and dreamless sleep in the arms of a woman who loved and adored him with all her heart.


End file.
